


and further down, and further up

by adieuophelia



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, idk this is shit i dont like it but might as well post it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:26:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adieuophelia/pseuds/adieuophelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a short walk through darktown, Hawke didn't think she would need to be so readily armed. She also didn't think a healer would be so scarcely found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and further down, and further up

**Author's Note:**

> been a long time since i wrote last. please leave critiques!  
> requests are welcome, just trying to get back into writing, decided to indulge in a new otp..
> 
> im writing and posting this at 2 am so, if this is awful ill edit it in the morning. this is really ust a quick fic

There was blood. Everywhere. Fenris, shaking, ran to find the source of it.

The attack was so sudden, Hawke was so unprepared, his mind raced trying to find how he let Hawke get out of his sights. They were just walking through Darktown, just taking a shortcut to get to the Wounded coast faster. They would have met Aveline there; they didn't need to be prepared for a fight when she would be there. 

Fenris cursed himself for letting Hawke leave her house without proper armour. Shouting her name, he kicked aside the bodies of fallen mercenaries, searching desperately for the snow-white skin of his companion. A gentle cry called his attention to his left, and there he saw Hawke.

He nearly froze just seeing the state of her body, but he put aside his fears to rush to her.

A gash, beginning at the bottom of her right breast and ending at her prominent left hipbone, was to blame for the pool of blood surrounding her. 

“Fenris..” she began, before being shushed by the elf.

“Don’t speak. Just be still.” He shushed her, through gritted teeth. His eyes darted everywhere over her body, trying to find a solution to an unsolvable problem.

He began removing her clothes, cringing every time the wounded rogue let out a gasp of pain. After her tunic had been removed, the damage was seen in all its glory.

The biggest concern was the large wound on her torso. It had already attracted thousands of tiny stones to stick to the blood, and the gash itself made Fenris wonder how Hawke wasn’t wailing. It was deep enough that rib bones were beginning to protrude, each rib adorned with a deep scratch from the blade. Where bones weren’t visible, yellow fatty tissue emerged from her body. Just the air of Darktown would infect it. 

He flashed Hawke a nervous glance, and saw her eyes failing to focus on anything around her.

“Listen to me. Please just listen, I need you to stay awake.” He said, in a desperate whisper. “You're hurt. You're hurt really badly, and you need to work with me.” 

Being able to just barely focus on his words, she lazily nodded. Fenris began working at the wound again. 

Trying to recall what he learned as a slave, he pushed the wound closed. Hawke cried loudly as he did this, making him feel dirty for touching her, but he continued.

His fingers dirty with blood, he wiped sweat from his brow. More than once his eyes had begun brimming with tears, but he wouldn’t lose hope. He was certain he could save her. 

He was certain, until Hawke weakly listed her hand on to his, indicating she wanted to tell him something.

Weakly, she began.

“Fenris I… need to know you’ll be… okay without –“

“No.” he interrupted immediately, dreading the words she was about to say. He cupped her face with one bloody hand, and her hand overlapped his. His other hand stayed on her stomach, keeping the wound shut, and feeling her shaky breaths

Using more energy than she should of, she shouted at him.

“Listen. Now.” With her harsh tone of voice, she quieted Fenris immediately. A gush of blood leaked from the wound, caused by the effort needed to speak over the elf. His stomach dropped, knowing he caused her pain, so he let her speak.

“If I'm not okay..” she continued, “You need to take care of them…” She gently rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb in slow, soft circles. “They look up… to you. They will follow you.”

“You are not dying. Not if I have any say in it.” Fenris whispered, his voice only breaking once in his attempts to remain strong.

“I know, but this…” she motioned to the cut in her torso with her eyes “has a bit more of a say than you.” She grinned weakly, trying to joke even when she was on deaths door.

“I love you, Fenris.” She said strongly, keeping eye contact with the now crying elf as best as she could. 

“You’ll not die. I wont let it happen!” He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his tears down his tan skin. His lyrium markings shined dully as put his attention back on the wound.

White liquid oozed from the edges of her torn flesh, her body fighting as hard as it could against the quickly setting infection.

When he looked back up at Hawke’s face, it was slack. He searched frantically for a health poultice, but found only empty jars. A sob tried to force its way up his throat, but instead he screamed. 

He screamed agonizingly, not caring who heard. Realising his screams would do nothing, he scanned the area with his eyes. There was no one around to help him, but he recognized the open doors of the place he hated most from across the narrow path. 

He screamed, this time with purpose, this time with a name.

He screamed for Anders.

Continuing to yell the bitter name, he felt a faint pulse from the girl’s body. Hope.

He screamed the name louder. He did not know if the mage stayed in his clinic at night, but he had no choice but to scream.

For what seemed like hours, but in reality was less than minutes, he screamed. His throat was hoarse and raw, his head ached with the echoing of his cries, but he continued to scream.

Soon, the clunking of boots could be heard.

“Fenris what do you want.” An aggravated voice came from the clinic. Fenris wanted to tell him what had happened but the only noise he could make was a heaving cry.

Anders walked to the source of the noise, and seeing the red stained dirt made him mutter a quick profanity to himself and run to the wailing elf.

“Fenris what..” he began, before looking at the body closer. 

“Oh, shit." He mumbled to himself "Makers breath Fenris what happened to her! What did you do!” he yelled accusingly. The elf’s markings glowed angrily at the accusation, but he calmed himself down enough to be able to work with the mage.

“She got away from me. It should not have happened but it did. Please, you must help her.” The last sentence got caught in his throat, and Fenris fought hard to keep his agony internal.

“I… I don’t know if I can.” Anders began, but seeing the anger in the elf’s eyes made him scour his brain for explanations. “I, see I don’t have the energy, Fenris. It is late, my power is weak. I don’t have enough lyrium, and either of us would resort to blood magic for this.

Fenris glowed angrily, and grabbed the mage tightly by his wrist. 

“So you give up? You wont do anything for her, you're just going to let her die in this sewer you call a home! Fix her, mage! Prove that you're not just as worthless as the rest of your kind.”

A blue glow cracked its way across the mages face, but he wouldn’t allow Justice to take control over something so important. 

He had an idea.

“Fenris. I think I know how to save her.” He said quickly. Fenris looked towards the mage.

“The lyrium in your skin, I think I can use it to give me enough power to save her.” Immediately, Fenris stiffened, and stared daggers into the healer.

“I knew you wouldn’t like it but it’s the only way.” He glanced at the cold, barely moving body on the ground before them, then back at the intensely thinking elf. “Please, help me save her.”

Fenris nodded stiffly, and the mage began his work. 

Anders placed his hand on Hawke’s bare breast, and the elf’s markings blazed with fury. He clenched his fists tightly, creating marks where his nails pressed into his calloused palm.

“She is yours, elf, you’ve made it clear. I just need to heal her. Do not be so angry when it is her life at stake.” Fenris unclenched his fists, but his lyrium glowed still.

With his free hand, he took the elf’s hand. The lines glowed a bright white, and both the men felt the power of the lyrium through their bodies. Anders began working.

Slowly, he worked the magic into Hawke’s body, closing the wound from the deepest parts first. Fenris watched through pained eyes as the flesh bonded itself back together. The fleshy tissues began hiding themselves again, and the dirt and stones inside the wound pushed themselves out. The gash was closed until only a quarter inch of flesh was separated.

“That is all magic can do, but I can suture the rest closed.” Anders said through gritted teeth, and he released his hold on Fenris. Both of them were lightheaded instantly from the strain of the magic, but they soon recovered.

Anders left to his clinic to get equipment to suture the remaining wound, and soon the rogue’s pulse and breathing returned to a normal pace.

“Anders.” The elf said sharply, puffing his chest to try to make himself look bigger, to no avail. The mage looked over at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I… Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if you… if she…” the elf’s gaze stayed fixed to the ground, but he heard Anders breathe a sigh of contentment. The mage smiled softly towards the elf.

“Not all mages are like the magisters in Tevinter, Fenris. I hope one day you learn that for yourself.”

It took Hawke five days to wake up, and when she woke it was late enough at night for it to be considered morning. Both Fenris and Anders were asleep in chairs next to the hay mattress where she laid. Looking at them both, she smiled and chuckled weakly, as the only thing that would bring the two forces together was the thought of her death. 

She laid back down to sleep the rest of the night, anticipating what new trouble she would get into in the morning.


End file.
